


The End of Empire

by sailorgreywolf



Series: Historical Hetalia Week 2020 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: Austria is left without an empire after the end of the First World War. Alone and disabled by his tremendous losses, he struggles to find normalcy again, and reflects on how he could have acted differently to change the way his empire ended.
Series: Historical Hetalia Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701136
Kudos: 6





	The End of Empire

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授翻】帝国的终结](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432535) by [dort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dort/pseuds/dort)



Austria awoke in pain. He had awoken in pain every day in the past year. His every joint seemed to be searingly painful. Fighting the war had been hard enough on his body, but this was a deeper pain. Losing almost all the land he had once help had taken a toll he never could have imagined.

The doctor had said that if he was human, he would have doubted whether he could walk again. His nerves were punishing him like he had lost limbs, even if he could see his legs when he threw back the blankets.

He had spent the last half of a year without the use of them. But, he was determined that he would regain it. He sat up with a small sigh at the effort.

Then he reached over and pushed the curtain open as far as it would go. A bright sliver cut through the room. He should have installed electricity in this room, he thought grudgingly.

Before there would have been servants and people to open the curtains at this hour. But that was gone now. He had to do it for himself. No one was going to serve a little republic. Just a rump state of the once great empire, nothing more.

He reached out and took hold of the head of the cane that he kept next to the bed. It was a plain thing, just polished wood. But, it was better than a wheelchair.

He swung his legs off of the edge of the bed. He tried to flex his feet as they touched the floor. They moved sluggishly, but he took the reaction as encouraging. He could feel the coldness of the floor under his bare feet, which he knew should also take as a good sign. Feeling and movement was returning, so he must be healing.

He gritted his teeth and stood up. For a moment, he felt like his legs would not hold him. But, he pushed up on the cane, which was enough to keep him standing. He clenched his jaw against the pain.

If he could live as an empire for so long, then he could learn to do this. He would walk again. There was strength left in him yet, and he would nurture it. He would walk the streets of his capital. He would go to a coffeehouse and have coffee and apple strudel as he did before. Such a small thing, but so precious to him. He was determined to regain his normalcy.

He took a step, leaning heavily on the cane. It was painful, but he took a step, and then another. He fixed his eyes on his goal: A comfortable armchair on the other side of the room. If he could reach it, then he could let himself rest. It was not much, he knew, but it was enough to force himself to walk. His legs would never get stronger if he did not.

He made it to the chair, and collapsed into it with a grunt of effort. If he asked, he was sure that he could get morphine, but he refused to let himself be comfortable. When he thought on it, he could only conclude that his own complacency that had gotten here.

There must have been something that he could have done to prevent this. So many questions came to mind.

Could he have been kinder to Elizabeth? The Kaiserin who was such a strange bird, who flew away from Vienna whenever she could. It made her sick she always said, and Franz Joseph had loved her too much to force her to return. Had he driven her so far away? Had he expected too much of an eccentric woman?

Could he have spared more time for Rudolph? The Crown Prince who had always been moody and combative. Would a sympathetic ear have saved him from himself?

Could he have satisfied Maximilian’s ambitions, so he didn’t have to take the poisoned crown of Mexico. He had run so willingly to a country who was known for his flighty love affair with republicanism, and it had cost him his life. Could Austria have done more to keep him in Vienna where he belonged? Had he been too gentle when he warned him against Mexico? Could he have not been blunter about Mexico’s unreliable nature? Had Maximilian not known how much he meant to his brother?

The maelstrom of questions continued in his mind, suggesting all the steps he could have taken to save the empire.

Could he had done something to warn Ferdinand of the danger? Had he even known it himself?

Could he have prepared Karl for the throne in such a short time?

The questions began to fade in favor of a series of images that had played in his head over and over again since the end of the war. The tragedy of the house that he had loved so well since he was a young man.

A little girl named for her grandmother cold in her bed in Budapest.

Two bodies in a hunting lodge in Mayerling.

A place on the outskirts of Querétaro that he had never seen.

A busy promenade in Geneva.

The blood stained seats of a car in Sarajevo.

And the last, always the most tragic: His dearest emperor, taking his last labored breaths.

Austria was sure that he would always clearly remember how Franz Josef had summoned him to his bedside in those final moments. How he had taken the hand of the man who had been his emperor for 68 years, and heard those last words meant just for him.

He repeated them under his breath, “Save the empire, Roderich, if you can. Save it.”

He felt the tears come, as they always did when he thought about that moment. He had done what he could, and fought until he no longer could. But he felt the heavy burden of regret. He had failed his Kaiser in that one last thing.

He felt a tear roll down his cheek. He wished that he had at least been able to keep the empire for Franz Josef, as one last act of love for his dearest emperor. Austria knew he had cried too much for the empire, but he could not help it. The loss felt monumental and existential. He did not know who he was without it.

There was a knock on the door that broke the cycle of Austria’s thoughts. One of the remaining butlers opened the door and said shortly, “Prussia is here to see you.”

Austria stared for a moment in disbelief. Was he here to provide comfort or mockery? The only way to be sure was to see what he wanted. Austria nodded, “Tell him that I will see him.”


End file.
